


Feel

by Rinawen



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, blackstairs, jemma - Freeform, pwp smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-12-26 04:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18275681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinawen/pseuds/Rinawen
Summary: An alternate version of the moment when Julian visits Emma's room in chapter 23 of Queen of Air and Darkness.





	Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer: I don't own these characters, they are the creation of Cassandra Clare, renown author and fic writer widely known for The Draco Trilogy, as well as her bestselling Shadowhunters series of novels, of which this is based off of. 
> 
> A/N: We'll always have Thule, but I did feel gypped we didn't get a Bad!Julian smut scene.

_“I can’t,” she said. “When you get your feelings back, we’ll both regret we did this when you didn’t care.”_

_He looked puzzled. “I want you just as much as I ever did. That hasn’t changed.” – Chapter 23, That Winds May Be, Queen of Air and Darkness_

Emma bit her lower lip in confusion. She wanted to believe him, to rush into his arms and get lost in the sensation of him, but it felt almost like a betrayal.

Julian kissed her forehead, and she could feel herself equal parts relaxing and tensing into the contact. She’d never felt so at war with her own instincts.

He began slowly walking them backward, until she felt her thighs hit the side of her bed, jolting her into the present. She took a deep breath and sat down, pulling Julian down with her.

“We can’t do this,” she whispered, afraid that if she spoke any louder, he’d hear the shudder in her voice, the yearning to give in to her hunger for him. She met his eyes and was shocked to see the want in them. It was almost as if it were _truly_ Julian…

“You know earlier, when I was talking to Ty? I knew that I was messing up, acting unnaturally, because I could feel _him_ pounding on a wall in mind,” he said.

The haze around Emma’s brain cleared slightly. _“Him?_ Him who?”

“The other Julian. Me. The part of me that’s locked away. I could feel him scream bloody murder, trying to get me to say and do the right thing. But it was like a foggy, static-y message that I couldn’t understand.”

Emma gasped, horrified. She glanced down at the scar on his arm— _you are in the cage._

Julian turned Emma’s face up to look at him, his eyes darkened to an almost violent black. He grazed her lower lip with his thumb. “But here, with you, the other Julian is silent.” His hand moved up her face to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Even locked away in the cage, the other Julian can find nothing wrong with being with you. He loves you. I can feel it emanating from him, but the message gets lost in translation somehow. I simply can’t understand it, can’t process it.” Julian’s hand moved down her neck, to trace along the delicate skin of her recently mended collarbone.

Emma’s already delirious thoughts began to race with the implication. Julian…Julian is ok with this, happening? _Her_ Julian? The Julian that is trapped in Magnus’ spell?

“I think it’s the reason why, despite not being able to feel much, I still _want_ you,” Julian continued, his hand toying with the strap of her nightgown, eyes lidded. “Wanting you is as much of a base instinct for Julian, for _me_ , as following Ty up the pyre. My body needs you, _I_ need you, the way I need food, water—air to breathe.”

Before Emma could respond, Julian brought his hand back up to her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.

She never stood a chance.

The kiss was like wildfire to her spine. Whether he loved her or not didn’t matter—lust was the fuel to the flames. Her _parabatai_ rune remained inactive, but her blood ran like hot lava.

Emma whimpered as Julian pulled her lower lip between his, sucking out what felt like her very essence. Julian shifted his attention down to her neck, a low, manipulative blow for him, knowing that as her area of weakness. She buried her face in his hair to stifle a moan. “Julian, please,” she begged, not precisely knowing whether she was asking him to stop or urging him on. 

She felt her traitorous knees open of their own volition—an invitation.

Julian noticed.

“What do you want, Emma?” he asked, though it came out more like a groan than an actual string of words. He nuzzled the tops of her breasts and Emma gasped in response.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded quietly as he slid off the bed and onto his knees in front of her. Emma immediately missed the warmth of him next to her.

He gazed at her bare legs with hunger. He began to run his fingers up her calves, then placed them gently on her knees. He leaned in to rain soft kisses along her legs, pushing them even further apart. She felt his tongue where her knee met her inner thigh, and she briefly wondered if this was the sensation one felt before spontaneously combusting.

“Please tell me you want this,” he begged, pulling her down for another kiss.

It was an unfair tactic—his kissing would hardly leave behind enough brain cells for her to form a logical answer.

The kiss was equal parts languid and demanding, his calloused fingers caressing the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Emma clutched Julian’s hair fiercely, trying to fight her mind’s loss of control over her body.

He broke the kiss long enough to bring two fingers to her mouth. “Suck,” he commanded, and she did, her eyes burning into his as he watched her. She could see his pulse racing in his neck.

He took his fingers out of her mouth, pleased with her work, and lowered them to her inner thighs.

“Julian, please,” she begged, still unsure whether she wanted him to stop or continue. He moved the fabric of her nightgown out of the way, hooked her underwear with his thumb and pressed his two wet fingers inside her. Emma gasped and threw her head back, biting her lower lip to keep from crying out.

“You do want this,” Julian hissed, pressing his forehead to her knee as he continued to move his fingers.

“Yes, _please_ ,” Emma breathed out—she had lowered herself onto her elbows and was struggling to hold herself up.

She thought of the few times she’d slept with Camron Ashdown—love hadn’t played any part then, either. What was so wrong about this? She wanted Julian. Julian wanted her.

Julian’s thumb grazed a particularly sensitive spot, and Emma pressed herself harder into his hand.  He stifled a groan by biting right into her thigh.

“Julian, _please_ , don’t make me beg,” she gasped, and clutched at his shoulders, pulling him up toward her once more—she couldn’t stand another moment without him. He climbed back onto the bed, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the ground.

Emma still thought he was wearing too much clothing. She frantically grasped at his belt making short work of it. With trembling fingers, she undid the fly of his jeans—she wanted them gone. She needed to feel his skin against hers. She reached a hand into his jeans, gripping him completely, and her hand suddenly felt very small. She enjoyed watching his head fall back, his breathing quickening.

She reached her other hand inside, continuing to explore. She marveled at how, for a lack of a better word— _big_ —Julian was. In all the years she’d never thought to consider…

_It’s always the quiet ones._

Suddenly, Julian’s head snapped back to attention, his singular focus back. He grasped the fabric of Emma’s nightgown and unceremoniously ripped it off.

“That’s vintage!” Emma exclaimed, pretending to be upset while being very obviously delighted.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Julian growled into her ear, making her spine tingle. As if to immediately make good on his promise, he took her right breast in his mouth and worked her into such a state that she thought she would come, just from that.

“ _Julian_ ,” she whimpered, pleading, begging. “Please.”

She pushed his jeans down, along with boxers. He finished kicking them off.

Emma took a moment to drink in his body—tall, lean, Shadowhunter strong. Her eyes lingered on his Adonis belt, the desire to run her tongue along its curves overwhelming.

“Emma, stop making a meal out of me and come here,” he commanded.

She did just that.

She flung herself on him, and they fell back onto the bed together, arms and legs entangled. Julian extricated himself long enough to slide Emma’s underwear down her legs, planting kisses along the way. “We should probably refresh your rune,” he suggested practically.

Emma reached over to her nightstand and grabbed her stele. “Hurry up,” she commanded, handing it over to him.

She watched, eyes blazing, as his artist’s hand elegantly drew the Sanger rune right below her belly button. He took a moment to admire his handiwork, then threw the stele over his shoulder and began to suck and bite his way up her body.

Emma was burning. “Julian, _please_. I won’t beg anymore,” she pleaded between shuddering, pleasured gasps.

Julian obliged. He placed his hips between her legs and thrust into her, emitting a deep guttural sound that was like a symphony to Emma’s ears.

“Don’t stop,” Emma commanded, delirious with the delicious sensation of completeness. She was being stretched and decadently filled and the pleasure was _excruciating_.  She never wanted Julian to stop, never wanted it to end, but it was also _too_ much—the ache _too_ exquisite.

Emma could feel her toes curling, her legs tensing with the buildup as he obliged her. She bit down hard on Julian’s shoulder to keep herself quiet, her legs wrapping tighter around his hips like a snake slowly ensnaring its prey. 

“Emma if you don’t stop that—I’m—I’m gonna come,” Julian stuttered out breathlessly.

“Stop what?” Emma asked shamelessly as she gripped him tighter with her thighs.

“By the Angel,” Julian groaned and flipped them over so that Emma was now on top.

Emma joyfully took control of the situation, but it proved too much. It felt _too good_. As she sank down onto Julian, over and over, she began to feel it in her spine, the tingles down to the tips of her toes—a piercing knife cutting through the emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

She came with a cry—Julian sat up to stifle it with his lips. Emma kissed him voraciously, trembling all over as she clung to him for stability—for lucidity.

Julian, ever the gentleman despite the spell, let her recover, and peppered her forehead with soft kisses before flipping her over onto her back once more. “ _Julian_ , I don’t think I can take it any—” Emma’s sentence was interrupted with her own moan, as she felt the buildup in the backs of her thighs once more. She dug her nails into Julian’s back trying desperately to keep herself from crying out again.

Julian pulled her leg over his hip as he continued to bury himself inside her. “ _Emma_ ,” she heard him moan into her ear, his body shuddering against her—she could _feel_ he was close.

That thought, that singular thought, that her body was bringing him pleasure, that her body was making him feel _this_ way, filled her with a sense of triumph, and she came again, pulling Julian along with her.

Julian collapsed next to her, pulling her onto his chest. She traced the trail of bite marks she left along his shoulders. “Those look pretty intense,” she mused.

“I didn’t even feel them,” he replied sleepily. “Was too busy feeling other things.”

Emma blushed, slowly beginning to feel herself doze off. _As long as I can continue to make him feel something._


End file.
